Remember Me
by Angry Pencil Wielder
Summary: I awoke without memories. Without a name. Seeing my potential, Starfleet used me as a living weapon to hunt down the terrorist John Harrison. But as soon as my gaze met his, everything shattered around me like glass. "Remember me." He said. And I did. (Kahn/Oc) Hiatus


Chapter One

* * *

My eyes flicker open, though the lids feel heavy and are caked together with dried tears. There are noises around me, beeping machines and the murmur of voices. My vision remains blurry, though I can see white mingled with splotches of dark.

Slowly, focus comes back to me.

"She's awake." I hear a voice speak beside me. A face appears above me, an older man with graying hair and laugh lines adorning his skin.

"Hello there." The man greets me with a tired smile.

I don't respond. I can feel my throat is dry and my voice wouldn't work if I tried. The man seems to realize my predicament as he moves away to grab a foam cup hopefully filled with water.

I follow his movements with my eyes, but other than that I don't move. The man comes back and holds out the cup. Slowly, I lift myself from the hospital bed in which I lay and take the small cup. I drink the water slowly so not to choke, even though my throat begs me to chuck it down with abandon.

I pull the empty cup away from my lips and open my mouth. "C-can eh... 'ave sm'more?" I manage to say through my still dry throat.

The man, doctor I suppose, nods and takes the cup to refill it. Several refills later, I feel that I can one more speak coherently.

I carefully look around before making an attempt to speak. Instinct tells me to evaluate my situation carefully before making any moves.

Only the doctors remains with me in my small white room, the several nurses having left sometime while I drank.

Several machines sit around my hospital bed, keeping track of my vitals. An IV connects from my wrist to one such machine. I recognize it all as a typical hospital setup.

What I don't recognize, is much more concerning.

"Who... am I?" I ask carefully. Perhaps I just hit my head and have some slight amnesia? I can only hope it's that simple.

The doctor sighs and gives me a pitting expression. But beneath it I spot something like... relief? Accomplishment? The look worried me, but his voice pulls me from my musings.

"I was worried about that." The doctor tells me. "You were pulled from the wreckage of a merchant vessel a weak ago. We didn't know if you were going to make it."

"Merchant vessel?" This wasn't bringing back any memories.

The doctor nods. "You were the only surviver. Two were lost in the crash, and all data in the ship was destroyed. We have no way of knowing who you or the others are." He walked over to my left side and gently took the IV out of my wrist. "You were heavily damaged, your worst injury on your head. It seems like you've acquired amnesia from the wound." He gave me a pitting look. I decided I hated that look. "Other than that, you've healed up quite nicely."

Something on his wrist beeps. The doctor looks down at it then at my apologetically. "Sorry, I'm needed elsewhere." He says before leaving my little white prison.

I hardly notice his departure. Besides, I havn't even bothered to ask his name.

* * *

The next day I was given a name. Sophia Gray. That's what they decided to call me. A name so... boring. I hated it, really. It felt so fake. But that's what had been put on my papers, and there really wasn't anything I could do to change that.

Along with a name, I had been given a job opportunity at Starfleet. A mental test had revealed I was gifted in the realm of machines, especially those of war. Along with that knowledge, I'd discovered I knew extensive hand to hand combat, how to handle every kind of gun thrown at me, and even use bladed weapons.

The doctors said it was possible I had been some sort of mercenary, though I didn't appear in any records, so if I was, I was in no trouble with the law. That, at least, was a relief.

As I had nothing, I agreed to the job. I was immediately sent to the Starfleet Academy for 'training'.

Given my advanced skill set, I completed it within two months.

Turns out, those two months were the calm before the storm.

* * *

I wake up with a stretch and a yawn before grabbing the pile of cloths I had laid out the day before and make my way to the small bathroom installed in my dorm. Setting down the cloths on the closed toilet lid, I turn on the sink and splash a bit of water on my face to wake myself up.

I pull off my night shirt, leaving my chest exposed for all the world to see, (though seeing as I live alone that would be no one in this instance). I rub a hand overt my pale collar bone, feeling how it sticks out from malnutrition. I just can never find it in myself to eat. I never have the time.

Sighing, I glance over the rest of me. My naked breasts are large, though I honestly don't care for them. They tend to get in the way. My stomach is flat and tone with the slightest outline of abs.

My thin fingers gently trace one of the many scars decorating my body. They start at the shallow line over my breasts then to the short but deep one on my right shoulder. I run my hand along the dozens of short scars scattered across my body like freckles.

I brush the little round ones on my arms, shaped like needle wounds. I gaze at the thick one over my throat, as if someone had tried to slit it one upon a time.

There's several that look like gunshot wounds, thier pale blemishes fading into my milk complexion.

Then my hands fall to the long thick one on my lower belly.

This one confuses me the most.

It looks like a surgical scar, as if I had an operation done to my insides. But like with all my other scars, I have no memory of where I got this one.

I shake my head. I've contemplated the origin of these wounds nearly every day since I awoke, and it has never gotten me any closer to the truth.

I glance at the mirror and begin to go through my mantra like I do every morning. A reminder of who I am and what I know. Because without it, I know I'll loose what little I have left of myself and go insane.

"My name is Sophia." I tell the mirror. "I am thirty one years old. I live on Earth. I have red hair and grey eyes. I am one hundred seventy five centimeters tall."

I blink at the mirror and sigh. "...that is all I know." I finish.

Pushing away from the sink, I continue to get dressed. Then I have to set about packing as I'm to leave the Academy within the week. Then I'll have to find a job with Starfleet, something I've already been given several offers of.

While getting dressed, I absently switch on my television to fill the stifling quite in my small home.

"-attack on Starfleet Headquarters." My head jerks up and I rush over to the television. "Seven have been reported dead, and many more wounded. As of now, no details on the terrorist or terrorists who have committed this hernias crime." I gape at the newscaster on air.

An attack on Starfleet HQ? That was... ludicrous.

I know I should feel mortified for what happened and the people killed, yet some dark part of me is sadistically glad that such a thing happened.

"It is believed that the same terrorists are responsible for the destruction of-" A loud beeping from my PADD tears my attention away from the screen. I snatch up the square piece of metal and flick open the massage. I stifle a gasp at what I read. The message was send from Admiral Marcus.

" _Miss Sophia Gray,_

 _I am assuming you've seen this morning's news. Starfleet is currently organizing a mission to find and take out the perpetrator. I am personally inviting you to join this mission. I believe you will be a powerful asset given your impressive credentials. A ship by the name of the_ USS Enterprise _will be leaving tomorrow at 1300 to track down the name of man who attacked Starfleet is John Harrison, age 32. He used to work for a secret branch Starfleet but called Section 31, but he went rogue, bombing the Archives and then attacking HQ._

 _My offer stands at this; you will join the_ Enterprise _'s crew and embark to Kronos, the planet in which Harrison is currently hiding on._

 _Message me at once if you agree and I will send you the remaining information for the voyage._

 _Formally, Admiral Alexander Marcus."_

I read through the message several times to insure that it was indeed real. _Admiral Marcus letting me, a woman just out of the Academy without even memories, go on a high stakes mission like this?_ It was rather hard to believe.

I answered back immediately with an affirmative. Not an hour later did Marcus send me the rest of my needed information. Tomorrow, I would be on the _USS Enterprise._


End file.
